


Silence

by pearlyquill (TheQuiescentQuill)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Hurt, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 22:13:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9681824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQuiescentQuill/pseuds/pearlyquill
Summary: "Relationships took time and work, give and take, occasionally she needed to be left to herself and he needed to make a trip to the whorehouse. There was an understanding between them, in the silences they shared. He owed her a life time he had not given her. She was his real family, after all. Though he had been beginning to wonder what the qualifiers were for “real” family."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Short, prosey, probably incorrect tense at times one shot for my own self indulgence. 
> 
> Please remember to comment and constructive criticism is always welcomed!

Scanlan Shorthalt had never done goodbyes well, most often he avoided them for the convenience of his feelings and the feelings of his bed partners. Saying farewell to the people he had shared so much of his life with had been another story and while he was a great liar (And he was a _great liar_ ) something about walking away from the people he spent so much time with was much harder than he had thought it would be. In retrospect, the chaos he’d left behind him in his rush to leave (to ~~run away~~ ) left him to wonder if he would ever see them on good terms again.

He spent his time with Kaylie wisely, though she was as good a liar as he ever was which caused stops and pauses in their relationship and part of him thought (bitterly at times) she _must_ have been his daughter. She was hard to talk to sometimes, she could be abrasive and cold but he understood. Relationships took time and work, give and take, occasionally she needed to be left to herself and he needed to make a trip to the whorehouse. There was an understanding between them, in the silences they shared. He owed her a life time he had not given her. She was his _real_ family, after all. Though he had been beginning to wonder what the qualifiers were for “real” family.

The days away from Vox Machina turned into months, Kaylie’s mask fell away and Scanlan finally learnt all of the things he missed, the sadness and the anger. He also learnt that her nose scrunched up when she laughed and she was not very good early in the mornings. He found himself growing more at ease. A year rolled around. Then another. He sang with his daughter, played the flute with her, taught her things that only a father could teach a child.

Then they found themselves in Emon, a place Scanlan had avoided for fear of nostalgia gripping him but the streets were the same and Kaylie seemed to understand that he had unfinished business when they rocked up at the gates of Greyskull Keep, she made her leave calmly and patted his shoulder as she went. The guards, though hesitant, allowed him entry into the keep that had once been his (He wondered if they’d erased every part of him from the place). Scanlan approached the temple first, he figured that if he was going to beg forgiveness he had best seek some solace there.

He did not expect to see Pike, he didn’t know why he hadn’t expected to see her (perhaps he had convinced himself they would be gone) but through the ajar door he caught a glimpse of blonde hair. She was humming to herself. Not dressed in heavy armour but casual robes, she seemed relaxed as though she was going through the motions.

Scanlan entered in silence, though the creaking door gave him away and she turned to face him. He watched a multitude of emotions cross her face, from confusion to joy to… Anger. He had never seen that directed at him in such a way before but she was making her way towards him at a speed he had not realised she could move at. Pike’s hand met his cheek with a resounding crack, it echoed in the empty hall as she stepped back.

“Hello to you too.” He hissed, a hand springing to nurse his cheek.

“And just who do you think you are?” She demanded, no greeting but there was a break in her voice that him uncomfortable. He thought he might have deserved it. When he looked up again, her eyes were watering and she seemed confused. As though she didn’t know what to say.

“I think," He began, with a puase, "I’m Scanlan Shorthalt.” He offered lamely and watched her breathe a sigh and step back from him slowly as though trying to think about what to do.

A long silence followed, as she turned from him and began towards the altar, he followed behind her and watched as the cleric slid onto the front bench, staring out towards the huge stained glass windows set into the walls of the temple. He noticed she was wearing her hair differently, curled up into a braided bun on top of her head. Strands of pale hair falling around her face.

“What brought you back?” She asked suddenly, cutting the silence, she sounded defeated and nervous as though this was the best she could think to ask him. Her voice was heavy with purpose, her eyes were tired and the scar that marred her face still jarred him even now.

“I owe you all a conversation.”

“You owe us nothing, plus, you’re a liar and I don’t trust liars.” She sucked in a shaky breath, her face softened for a moment. He realised that she was trying very hard to remain annoyed, her hands were balled into tight fists. Scanlan had a sneaking suspicion that she understood why he’d done what he had.

“And yet you trusted me for many years.”

“Yeah. That was when you were part of _my_ family.” Her tone was scathing, bitter. Hurt. He had hurt her. Pike Trickfoot was a patient woman, full of temperance and kindness but her hurt and her patience had festered. She seemed hardened in comparison to what he remembered, but then an awful lot can change in a week never mind two years. He found himself sitting down next to her. “We talk about you as though you’re dead, you know.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, it’s been a long time.”

“Yeah.” He remembered navigating this with Kaylie but had never imagined he would have to navigate it with his previous companions.

“I… I missed you all.” Scanlan breathed and watched her tense, heard her snort and lifted his eyes to look at her. “I really did, I missed Grog and you and I even missed Vex.” He said the last part light heartedly, he watched her ignore his tone.

“You never even wrote.”

“I needed space.”

“One letter to let us know you were alive would have been fine and you know that.”

“I needed to find myself.”

“I needed to know if you were still alive.”

“Why?”

“Because, I thought so many times that you would at least let me know you were okay. I raised you from the dead. I thought you _hated_ me.” Her voice, that used to be so calm, had risen in volume as she grew more animated. “I thought you knew we loved you but you never told us anything and it is so hard to keep asking when all you get is the same answer.” Then he heard her voice choke, the crack became a crater and she started to cry. She pressed her palms in her eyes and sobbed. It was an ugly, uncomfortable sound.

Reaching out Scanlan wrapped an arm around her shoulders, the Gnome that had so often been a beacon of stability now needed him for just a moment. “I’m sorry.” He said, at a loss of something else to contribute. A rare moment of speechlessness.

“You’re not.”

“I know.”

He let her cry. What else could he do? So they sat without speaking for a long time, he wondered if silence would be the best medicine this time.


End file.
